


no homo

by eggutart



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Suicide mention, charlie huffs glue, i mean its canon its nothing new, middle/highschool au, shortfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 11:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14810870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggutart/pseuds/eggutart
Summary: charlie knows before anyone else. he thinks he knows before mac does, even.





	no homo

Charlie knows before anyone else. He thinks he knows before Mac does, even.

They’re thirteen when Mac kisses him first, soft, beneath the bleachers of the middle school, a fistfull of Charlie’s jacket in one hand and the other ghosting his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Mac says hastily, shrinking back from Charlie. When Charlie moves to touch his hand he flinches away. 

“Don’t be,” Charlie mumbles, pressing his shoulder into Mac’s when they walk back to class. He not-so-secretly misses the warmth on his lips, misses the way Mac’s fingers curl around the strands of hair at the base of Charlie’s neck. 

 

So Charlie kisses him next.

 

They’re on the couch at Charlie’s place, his mom doing God knows  _ what _ upstairs but neither of them mind. Charlie’s huffing glue but this time it’s not because he’s nervous. Mac is good. Despite being a little proud yet ironically uneasy with himself, he is good. So this time,  _ this time _ , Charlie’s not getting high out of frustration or because if he didn’t he might just throw himself out a goddamn glass door, he’s doing it because he needs his inhalable courage. 

When he leans over to Mac to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth, he expects Mac to freeze. But he doesn’t. He, albeit hesitantly, rests a hand on Charlie’s back, sending a shiver through Charlie’s spine. Mac is kissing Charlie now, moving like velvet and Charlie feels like he’s going to absolutely melt in his arms. 

They stop but it doesn’t feel any less intimate; they’re just  _ existing _ together, noses a centimeter apart and grins plastered to their lips. Mac is holding Charlie and he feels as if he could stay like this forever. Instead, they’re broken up by Bonnie throwing a beer bottle down the stairs, glass shards ricocheting off the plastered walls. Charlie peels himself from Mac and stuffs the bag of glue under a couch cushion. 

Mac is flustered and Charlie knows he must share the rose tint that Mac’s cheeks have been painted with. He wouldn’t say it, but Charlie thinks he looks cute. 

 

They’re in highschool now, and kissing is different. They’re supposed to be going after the senior girls, taking them to movies and oh-so nonchalantly put their arms around them with a yawn. That’s boring, they think. That’s downright  _ sophomoric _ . Mac learned that word lounged in the library with Charlie, flipping the dictionary open to random pages and rewarding Charlie with kisses when he can pronounce them. They are hiding away in the bathrooms and in the broom closets and just about anywhere until they are caught. Which, inevitably, they do. And the kissing stops.

 

“Nobody’s gonna tell, Mac,” Charlie says, and its all too evident in his voice that his heart is close to breaking. He reaches to lace his fingers with Mac’s and is met with dead air. 

Mac pulls his hand away, shoving it in his pocket. “Don’t touch me.” The venom on his tongue just about brings Charlie to tears. 

“Fine,” Charlie says, raising his voice. “I don’t fucking care anymore. Go kiss that creep Dennis or something. You’re just as bad as anyone else.” With this he leaves Mac in the parking lot, electing to walk the four miles home out of either stupidity, dramatic effect, or a combination of both. 

_ Everyone leaves _ , Charlie thinks, a thought he’d repressed when he was with Mac. Mac wouldn’t leave, right? Not  _ his _ Mac, his Mac of strawberry chapstick kisses and shared pizza after school and his Mac whom he thought really cared for him. Guess not. 

 

It’s almost ten thirty when Charlie’s cellphone buzzes. Mac’s name alights on the screen and he almost doesn’t answer. He reasons, though, if it’s so late it’s got to be important. He can assume that. Right?

“Mac?”

“Charlie,” the syllables of his name roll of Mac’s tongue like he’d been keeping them in for so long it was a relief to say them again. His voice is breathy, quiet. “I’m sorry.”

Charlie says nothing for a moment, considering the series of events leading to this moment and then the moment itself. 

“It’s okay,” he says finally, an audible exhale on the other line. Charlie’s chest tightens when he hears running water punctuate the silence. “Where are you?”

There’s a rustling of what Charlie thinks is Mac standing for two seconds too long. 

“Mac, please, are you okay?” Charlie pleads unsteadily, and he thinks maybe Mac’s right and maybe God  _ is _ real when Mac answers him. 

“I’m okay,” he says, but he doesn’t sound it. “I’m at the bridge.” 

 

Charlie drops his phone and snags his jacket from the back of his door before bolting from the house.

 

He runs like his life depends on it, because maybe Mac’s really does. He runs so hard his heart burns in his chest and he thinks his lungs are going to explode but he doesn’t care. He’s not thinking about the front door he left open or the alcohol Bonnie might find if his room wasn’t mom-proofed before he left. This is about Mac. It’s always been about Mac.

 

He’s sitting a solid foot from the edge when Charlie finds him. 

“I wasn’t going to do it, you know,” Mac says, but the guilt lacing his words reveals otherwise. Charlie kneels beside him, tentatively touching Mac’s chin with his fingertips, bringing his eyes to meet Charlie’s.

“Good,” Charlie breathes, not really thinking before kissing his forehead. Not thinking because it is just right, it’s just  _ them _ . He lingers there for a moment, savoring that Mac is  _ here _ now. Charlie begins to pepper kisses all over Mac; his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose. The crystalline tears that stained his face were replaced with gentle touches from Charlie. He holds Mac like he is glass, beautiful and breakable at the same time. 

Charlie wishes he had something to huff when Mac pulls away suddenly. He’s just going to reject him again, further tattering the bandaids that held him together at this point.

“Charlie,” he says, biting his lower lip. “I’m gay.” 

 

Charlie just about loses it. 

 

“Yeah, no shit,” he laughs into kissing him, smiling against Mac’s lips. 

 

They walk home in the dark, the mere mile that it takes turning into ten minutes because they just can _ not _ keep their hands off each other. Charlie craves being close to Mac again, and Mac envelops him in his arms like nothing’s ever happened. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. Not right now. Not to Charlie, and not to Mac.

 

Maybe Charlie’s gay, too. He doesn’t really know. And he doesn’t care, either. He knows Mac, and that is enough. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> charmac is good change my mind


End file.
